


So easy to begin

by elareine



Series: JayTim Week 2018 [7]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Psychological Trauma, but no description or mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 15:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: “It’s been several days. The toxin is gone.”Jason relaxed only marginally. “But you’re still afraid.”“I’m fine.”“Red.”





	So easy to begin

**Author's Note:**

> For JayTim week day 7: Alpha/Beta/Omega // Nightmares & Hallucinations, though I kind of ignored the hallucination part. 
> 
> This is set in the future because I wanted a Jason that had some time to recover and get therapy. (Who doesn't, really.)

Jason knew as soon as he found Tim that night that something was wrong. Red Robin was sitting on a rooftop, next to a Gargoyle, observation equipment in his hands. Everything looked normal. 

Except there was anxiety rolling off him in waves. 

“Red. I can smell you.” 

There was a small blush crawling up Tim’s neck. “I’m off scent blockers for a bit. If it bothers you-” 

“That’s not - Red. Why can’t you take them? What’s wrong?” 

There wasn’t any reason for Tim to trust him, especially, though they had co-existed, even worked together, for something close to a decade now. But maybe there wasn’t anyone else. Sure, Tim had his friends - good friends, if the smile he had on when he talked about his team was any indication - but Jason knew all too well that sometimes, you just didn’t want to bring the darkness that was Gotham to people who didn’t know it. 

And God knew neither of them would go to Bruce or Dick with issues like this. 

Tim seemed to come to the same conclusion, for he said haltingly: “Had a run in with Scarecrow.” 

Jason plopped himself down next to Tim rather ungracefully, quickly asking: “Just now? Did you get fear toxined? Do you need an antidote?” 

Tim flinched away from him. 

Then he held himself so still it kinda hurt Jason to look at him, that was how unnatural it was, and replied stiffly: “No, it’s been - several days. The toxin is gone.” 

Jason relaxed only marginally. “But you’re still afraid.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Red.” 

Tim sighed. “It was a bad trip, this time. My body won’t stop being on alert. The hormones in the scent blockers don’t help, so I stopped taking them for a while.” 

Jason was going to _kill_ the Scarecrow. Tear him apart limb from limb for making Tim, composed, calm Tim, look like that. He hunkered down a bit, making himself as small and non-threatening as someone with his size and stature possibly could. He usually made it a point to never do that in front of alphas (if they felt threatened in their power or whatever, that was their problem, not his) and never had had to bother in front of Tim, anyway. But right now, Tim was scared. Jason would do a lot more than swallow his own pride to make it better.

Tim must have read his thoughts in the silence because he added: “It’s stupid. There’s nothing to be afraid of here.” 

For a second, Jason wasn’t sure what to say. Being comforting didn’t come naturally to him, especially not in costume, and Tim would not be comforted by platitudes. Then he recalled the words his therapist had given him years ago when the panic had still been fresh and ever present. 

“Look. I know you know that; we’re all rational beings here - you more than me, admittedly - but your brain doesn’t necessarily know that. Your amygdala is only trying to keep you safe. It needs time to figure out that you are.” 

The distress in the air only grew thicker. “I don’t feel safe anywhere anymore.” 

Tim’s voice was too small. Jason barely hesitated. “Do you know about my condo in Metropolis?” 

Tim blinked at him, visibly confused by the change in topic. “…You got a safe house in Metropolis?” 

Jason smiled. Bingo. 

 

He made it a point to drive Tim there himself, to slow down as they approached his neighbourhood - not exactly middle-class, but clean and friendly, with plenty of public transportations and small shops. It was nothing like Gotham. 

“Here. That’s the alarm system,” he showed Tim as they entered. “O set it up for me, so you can trust it, but if you want to play with it, be my guest.” 

Tim still hadn’t said a word. His scent hadn’t changed, either, but Jason was trying very hard to not let that bother him as he gently pushed Tim into the small entryway. “However,” he continued cheerfully, “the best thing is - no one else knows I live here. Not Roy, not Kori, not Dick, no one. If even you didn’t find out about it - who else has a chance?” 

Tim didn’t visibly react, but he did start moving on his own, taking off his shoes and jacked before following Jason away from the entrance hall. He stopped in his tracks when he entered the main room. Jason followed his gaze. 

There were books everywhere. Just. Shelves and shelves of them everywhere. The large kitchen was adjacent to the main room, no wall blocking the sight of all the utensils Jason had gleefully collected over the years. In front of one window was a workspace, but there were no case files on it, instead a laptop and a pile of annotated books and post-its reading things like “Mid-term on Medieval Lit”, “Buy ‘Romeo and Juliet: A Romance’” and “Final paper: Robots and Romance in Sci-Fi”. 

There were a couch and a tv and a bed. Everything was in sight, the kind of open-floor space only good money could buy, but nothing was empty.

This wasn’t his safe house. It was his home. 

He watched Tim walking around in wonder with a small smile. Sure, this wasn’t the way he had imagined inviting Tim here for the first time. And oh, had he imagined it… 

At this point, he’d been in love with Tim for years. He’d become comfortable with it, in a way. The sun rose in the East, Gotham was a shithole, Superman could fly and Jason was in love with Tim. Seeing him here, in his home, his safe place, looking tired and weary and beautiful, was just a sharp reminder of that fact. 

Tim reached out to touch his writing utensils, carefully lifting the copy of “Romeo and Juliet” that was still lying open from when Jason had been working on an essay three days ago. “You’re a student?” 

“Long-distance, obviously, but - yeah.” 

“English literature?” 

Jason gestured at the overflowing bookcases all around them. “What gave it away?” 

“How did you get into that?” 

Jason was glad that Tim’s curiosity was making its way back. He’d kinda expected to be bombarded with questions as soon as they entered the condo. 

Still, priorities. “I’ll tell you, but first - what’s your comfort movie?” 

“My what?” 

“The movie you watch when you just need to feel better,” Jason explained patiently. “I know you like horror movies, but that’s right out.” 

“I never thought about that.” 

“Well, sit down and think about it,” Jason gently grabbed his elbow again and led him to the couch, “while I fix something to eat for us.” 

His shelves were reasonably well-stocked, luckily, and Jason had made sure to invest in a big freezer. He’d de-frost some tuna steaks for tomorrow, but for know, pasta with a creamy tomato sauce and vegetables it was. Carbs and nutrients, that was what his comfort food was about. 

The pasta water was just starting to boil when he heard the tv beginning to play and looked up from his chopping board. “Star Trek?” 

“Deep Space Nine.” 

“Cool, haven’t watched that one yet.” 

An hour later found them both on the couch, Tim curled up right next to Jason with a woollen blanket around his shoulders. He hadn’t eaten all of his pasta, but Jason didn’t mind. If Tim wasn’t getting enough sleep, of course his stomach would be upset. He’d bug him about nourishment again in the morning. 

At this rate, it looked as if Tim was ready to go to bed soon. His eyes were drooping, and his posture wasn’t nearly as poised as it had started out as. 

Looking at him from the corner of his eyes, Jason felt his heart seize. Tim was - what, twenty-six now? But like this, he reminded Jason of the teenager he had pretended not to be when they first got to know each other away from the whole “Oh you’re Robin?”-issue. Only this time, Tim _chose_ to be vulnerable around him. It felt good to be trusted like that.

As if he’d read his thoughts, Tim mumbled: “Everything smells like you, here.” 

Inwardly, Jason cursed - usually, Omega smell calmed Alphas down, but this was Jason, of course it wasn’t comforting -, but before he could apologise, Tim smiled. It was tiny, small, wavering, here and gone again, but it was enough to stop Jason in his tracks. “I like it.”

Yeah, Jason had no reply to that. 

 

He had wanted Tim to sleep on the bed - he was the guest, after all - but he’d nodded off during the third episode of Star Trek and Jason knew better than to move him. At least he was already covered in a blanket, Jason thought and moved to the armchair he had besides the balcony window, settling down into a light sleep.

 

At 2 a.m., Tim shot up into a sitting position with a gasp. 

Less than three seconds later, Jason was kneeling beside him on the ground. He didn’t touch Tim just yet - even slightly sleep-dazed, his reflexes had him awake enough to know that Tim might not appreciate it. 

“Tim. It’s okay,” he offered tentatively.

Blue eyes stared at him unseeingly. 

“Tim. It’s me, Jason. You’re at my apartment, Washington Street 34C, Metropolis, on the couch in front of the tv.” Jason tried to keep his tone matter of fact. Tim would likely appreciate information more than platitudes. “We ate pasta with zucchini, peppers and eggplant. The sauce was tomato, with plenty of basil and garlic. It was creamy, remember? We watched Star Trek. You fell asleep during the episode where Garak appears for the first time.” 

Tim’s shoulders were still way too tense, but Jason thought he was getting through. His eyes were focusing. 

“You’re wrapped in my favourite blanket. Alfred gave it to me; it’s a blend of cashmere and cotton that’s just soft without being itchy or fluffy. The couch probably needs to go at some point - you’ll feel every spring you’re sitting on, I bet. And you said - you said everything smelled like me,” Jason added, running out of sensory experiences to ground Tim in. “I don’t know what smells like, but I can tell you it’s starting to mix with your own scent.” 

Tim inhaled through his nose. And exhaled. And again. Slowly, his breath evened out. 

Jason couldn’t help but smile. “That’s good. Yeah, that’s it. You’re here.” 

Finally, Tim’s shoulders slumped and he threw an arm over his eyes, groaning. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jason stood up. “C’mere. You’ll sleep on the bed, alright? The mattress is way better there.” 

The way Tim just let himself be led passively told Jason everything he needed to know about his state of mind. 

“You make yourself comfortable. Doesn’t matter if you sleep or not,” he soothed before Tim could protest, “just rest. I’ll be right here, okay?” 

Jason blindly grabbed one of the books from his nightstand and a pillow from the couch before settling down right next to the bed. It wasn’t extremely comfortable, but he’d had worse. “I’ll leave the light on and keep watch. You don’t need to think about anything, okay? I know that’s not easy with that big brain of yours, but it’s okay.” 

Tim didn’t answer, but he did bury his head in the pillows, so Jason took that as agreement. 

They sat there in silence for a long while, only the sound of a turning page interrupting the quietness they were building between themselves. Jason idly thought that a cup of tea would be nice with this book (it was a Jane Austen novel, perfect for a night like this), but, well, he’d told Tim that he’d be there, so he wouldn’t move. 

“What are you reading?” 

The question was quiet, not piercing their bubble so much as adding to it, and Jason responded to it in kind. “ _Persuasion_ by Jane Austen. I’m thinking of using it for a paper, but honestly, it’s just a favourite of mine.” 

“Is it good?” 

_Of course_ , Jason wanted to reply, but thought better of it and offered instead: “Want me to read to you?” 

“You don’t have start over for me.” 

Jason chuckled. “Tim, I’m reading this for… the seventh time? I think? It’s no bother.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned the pages and started: “Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. “

Tim didn’t move the whole night, and Jason had no idea whether he fell asleep again or not, but that didn’t matter, because he kept reading anyway until the morning sun was shining through the windows and his voice was hoarse and scratchy. 

 

It didn’t get better right away. Jason hadn’t expected it to. Just like him, Tim had been traumatised multiple times throughout his life, giving his brain plenty of ammunition to terrorise him. 

But they ate every meal together. Tim wasn’t allowed to do much more than assist in chopping (Jason had had bats cook for him before, thank you very much, no need for a repeat performance), but he always made sure to do the dishes. They watched a hell of a lot of Star Trek, but on the third day, Jason enforced a break by making Tim watch every version of Pride and Prejudice there was. Yes, including the Bollywood one. 

That was the day Tim started laughing again. 

 

Unfortunately (or maybe not?), Tim sleeping for longer and longer periods at a time also meant his observation skills returning, as Jason found out when he made some midnight pancakes for the hell of it and found himself cornered. 

Tim’s gaze was piercing. “Did you take off your scent blockers?” 

Of course he’d notice right away. That’s what Jason got for falling in love with a detective. “Uh, yeah. I thought… You said…” 

“It’s good,” Tim thankfully interrupted before he could dig himself a deeper hole. “I just wondered because I’ve never smelled you this… unfiltered before.” 

“Yeah, it’s not really a good idea to not dim that down in Gotham. One of the first things Bruce bought for me, I think. I need to take them off for heats, of course. Not every month, but.” Jason shrugged. He wasn’t going to go into details about his medical issues with that particular topic. 

“You spend your heats here?” There was a weird undertone in Tim’s voice that Jason couldn’t read. 

“Yes.” Jason thought about that for a second. “Should I not have told you? Is that weird?” Maybe he’d violated some kind of boundary here? Omegas always liked to feel comfortable and at home during their heats, and Jason, especially. It had just made sense to combine that with his need to spend those days away from everyone he knew. But maybe bringing Tim here, too, had been too intimate? 

At least Tim asking about it probably meant he hadn’t smelled any lingering arousal or sex smells. (And Jason very carefully didn’t examine the thought of how Tim doing exactly that would make him feel.) 

The strange look on Tim’s face didn’t go away, but he just said: “No, Jason, that’s not weird,” and turned back to his lunch. 

 

On the night from day five to day six, Tim didn’t wake up once. 

 

Two days (and more importantly, nights of mostly uninterrupted sleep) later, he told Jason at breakfast: “I need to go back.” 

There wasn’t any reason for Jason to stop him. He was quite frankly surprised that Tim had consented to be away from work for over a week. His own duties called, too - he’d used his time here to get well ahead on his assignments for this term, but well, the Red Hood’s absence for such a long stretch of time didn’t get unnoticed. His friends were covering for him, but still. 

And Tim seemed better, really. Jason couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him without a hint of bags under his eyes. He was eating and sleeping regularly. There would be some residual panic left - when wasn’t there ever, really, with their jobs - but hopefully, he’d have the mental foundation now to deal with that. He was ready to get back to business. 

So there wasn’t any reason for Jason to stop him. 

“Yeah, same,” he said. 

There was no reason, but he still wanted to. 

 

They drove back into Gotham on his bike, Jason dropping Tim off at the manor. It felt a bit weird, like dropping off his crush after a date, except it was also his brother-friend-alpha-ally person who had stayed with him for over a week. 

Tim, at least, didn’t seem to be weirded out by the situation. Jason thought there was something very deliberate about his movements. Like he’d made a resolution. 

Then Tim moved in, clearly telegraphing his intent before hugging Jason. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Jason’s body didn’t really consult him before hugging back, pulling Tim into him. Tim’s body was warm even through their collective clothing; he’d put his patches back on in the morning, but this close they didn’t do much. 

Jason had never been able to describe smells like people in books did all the time. To him, Tim didn’t smell like fruits or colours or flavours or spicy or earthy or fresh or warm or any other descriptor he’d seen. Tim smelled like Tim, and that was pretty fucking great in Jason’s book. 

“Anytime,” he replied way too late, gently pulling away before Tim could. 

 

After that, he didn’t see Tim for three days. 

Those three days went by fine. Everything was alright. Jason slept his usual two to six hours and worked most of the afternoon and all of the night. He didn’t have any time to read during those kinds of weeks, but whatever. With the way he occasionally had had to change safe-house, he’d just have left one of his favourite copies behind one of these days, and that wouldn’t be cool at all. He made sure to eat and shower regularly and call Rory and Kori to beg their forgiveness for cancelling on their plans last weeks. 

It was all fine. He just missed Tim. 

They ran into each other on a rooftop in the area where their respective neighbourhoods overlapped, not too far away from where Jason had spotted Tim two weeks ago. 

For a second, Jason thought Tim was about to run away from him. He wasn’t nearly as good at reading body language as the other man, but everything in Tim’s posture screamed ‘I want to run’ for just a second. Then he visibly decided to face him and, confusingly, also took off his mask to look at him with judgemental eyes.

“Hood - are you hurt?” 

What? Jason looked down at himself. His shoulder and right arm were soaked in blood. 

Oh, right. That. Well, time to deliver a small reminder that Jason wasn’t the same person in Gotham that he was at home. “That’s not my own. I’m good.” 

“Ah.” Tim nodded. 

Silence.

“So - how are you?” Jason asked. 

“Better,” Tim told him, a bit stiffly. 

Still, he’d likely not lie to Jason, he reassured himself. What would be the point in doing that now? 

As happy as that made him, however, this was _weird_. Why were they suddenly talking as stiltedly as if Tim was 17 again and they were trying to rebuild their relationship after several _murder attempts_? Jesus, were the two of them really so inept that a week of emotional bonding was more impactful than murder? 

Clearly, the answer was yes, because- 

“That’s good,” Jason said inanely. 

“Yes.” 

Tim was still looking at him. 

Jason gathered his courage. 

“I still haven’t finished Deep Space Nine. And, uh, they just added the BBC version of “Persuasion” to Amazon Prime. Would you like to come over to my place - the safe-house after?” he asked, feeling strangely vulnerable, as if Tim would be able to read every thought and feeling Jason had had about him over the last five years in that question. In turn, Jason couldn’t smell him, couldn’t read the expression in his face. It made him want to do something, _anything_ , to reach Tim again, but he held himself still. 

Then Tim looked away. “I’m better. You don’t need to look after me.” 

Jason felt hope bloom within him because this - this wasn’t a rejection. This was just Tim being insecure. “Stay with me anyway?”

 

That night, Jason whispered, “It doesn’t feel like home anymore if it doesn’t smell like the both of us.” 

And Tim whispered back, “Safety is where you are.” 

 

Jason had to stay in Gotham for ten days straight after that - there was yet another Arkham break-out. Most nights, both he and Tim were out in the streets, and Tim had to work at Wayne Enterprises during the day while Jason did the daylight part of being a crime lord. There wasn’t much time for sleeping, but they found each other, anyway - in one of Jason’s Gotham safe-houses or Tim’s apartment or even the manor, once, just for an hour. 

At the afternoon of the tenth day, Jason texted Tim: _Meet you in two hours?_

Tim’s reply was prompt. _Make that three._

When they met up on an otherwise unremarkable intersection in one of Gotham’s sprawling suburbs, Jason smelled Tim immediately. He wasn’t wearing any scent blockers, again, and judging by the smile on his face he knew exactly what that did to Jason. This time, he was carrying a backpack with, Jason guessed, his electronic equipment and a change of clothes, and his grip in Jason’s hips as he sat behind him was steady and secure. 

They stopped for some groceries at a large and anonymous Walmart - not Jason’s favourite place, but it afforded the kind of anonymity Timothy Drake-Wayne needed.

Which reminded Jason: “You good missing patrol and work?” 

Tim shrugged one shoulder, eyes fixed on the nutritional content of the bagel Jason had tossed at him. “As far as most people are concerned, I’m in the Bahamas and only working when I can be bothered to not be at the beach.” 

“Well, lucky you, that sounds great.” 

“It is,” Tim agreed absently, and then looked confused at Jason’s broad grin. 

 

Jason opened the door to let them inside and turned to Tim with a smile that he could already feel being more relaxed than any he had smiled over the last ten days. “Welcome home.”

Tim kissed him. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, but Jason thought it fitted that they had waited until they were back here. If the hand he put on Tim’s lower back to pull him closer was shaking, it was only because of the intensity of the kiss, not because of any fear or uncertainty. 

There wasn’t any. Not here. 

**Author's Note:**

> The advice Jason gives about feeling safe was actually what my parents (both therapists specialising in trauma) told me after an incident last year and it really helped me personally, but you know, don't take psychology advice from fanfic ;) 
> 
> There might be sequel to this featuring their first heat.


End file.
